Death isn't an Answer
by alynwa
Summary: An evening watching movies stirs up bad memories for Alan.


"Alan? What's the matter?" The two spouses had been in bed all Saturday evening watching old Jimmy Cagney movies with a huge bowl of popcorn between them. They had watched "White Heat," "Yankee Doodle Dandy," "Public Enemy" and finally, "Angels with Dirty Faces." Denny had noticed the younger man pale during the scene when Cagney's character, Rocky, loses his bravado as he approaches the electric chair and fights the correction officers as he begs for his life before he is finally forcibly strapped in and electrocuted.

Alan came back to himself and rubbed his face. "Sorry, Denny," he said apologetically, "That execution scene…got to me."

"That's the beauty of that scene!" Denny exclaimed, "You don't know if Cagney is doing it because his friend the priest asked or if he really chickened out in the end."

"Indeed, you don't know. My experiences witnessing executions have shown me there is no 'usually;' each death was unique." He pushed himself off the bed and moved to the armoire that held their bedroom bar. "I'm tired of soda. Would you like a scotch, too?" Without waiting for an answer, he grabbed two old – fashioned glasses and poured two fingers for Denny and four for himself. He doffed his bathrobe before handing Denny his drink. He placed his glass on his night stand before he got under the covers and settled himself against the headboard. He took a swig of his drink and sighed as the liquid burned its way down his throat.

Denny had been watching him since he had arisen from the bed. "Oh no, you don't," he said sternly.

Alan's head turned to look at him. "I beg your pardon?"

"You need to tell your husband when he's being an insensitive idiot! I was so excited to find those Cagney DVDs that it didn't occur to me that the electric chair scene in "Angels with Dirty Faces" would upset you. Go on, call me a jerk! I can take it!"

Alan took another deep draw of his drink. "I'll do no such thing," he replied. "It's not your job to protect me from a movie."

Denny drew himself up and glared. "It's my job to protect you from _everything!_ Including me!" He got up to remove his robe and then got under the covers. He drained his glass and settled his bulk until he was comfortable. "Well, I know that you've witnessed five executions. The one that you watched with that Chelina girl in Texas was your fifth. Do you remember your first?"

"Chelina Hall and yes, I do. That movie reminded me of it."

Denny watched as Alan finished his drink and then turned out his lamp. He drained his glass, turned off the television and grabbed the popcorn bowl and slid it onto his nightstand. He tapped Alan's shoulder to signal the younger man that he was ready to cuddle. When Alan moved closer and placed his head on Denny's chest, he rubbed the younger man's back and asked, "Will you tell me about it? Please?"

"Are you sure it won't give you bad dreams?" Alan asked as he idly rubbed his hand back and forth across his husband's chest.

Denny snorted, "You're the King of Bad Dreams! I'll be fine. If I'm still behaving like an insensitive jerk, you can still tell me and I'll drop it."

"No, no, I think it will do me good to talk about it. I've never talked about it to anyone." He fell silent for a few minutes as he gathered his thoughts. "When I was still at Carruthers – Abbott," he began, "I was assigned a case by the court. The client's name was Jonas Spencer and he was charged with assault. I met him for the first time in his holding cell and when we were in the conference room, he answered all my questions and presented himself as a thoughtful, intelligent man who had been pushed and provoked into doing something that was not normally in his nature. I was fairly certain that I could get the charges, if not dismissed outright, reduced to a misdemeanor with time served."

"You've always been an excellent attorney," Denny opined. "So, did you get him off?"

"I did. The judge threw out the case and just as Jonas and I were shaking hands, the DA stood and instructed two police officers standing at the back of the courtroom to step forward and arrest him! As it turned out, Jonas Spencer's fingerprints had come back as belonging to John Scott of South Dakota, who was a person of interest in the murders of his wife, mother – in – law and sister – in – law four years earlier. He was extradited, tried, convicted, and sentenced to death. I was shocked. I had absolutely _no_ idea he was capable of such a heinous act."

"Really? You're usually such a good judge of character."

"You think so, Denny?"

"Of course! You knew enough to befriend _me_! Denny Crane!"

Alan smiled in the dark. "My best decision yet I agree, but I have made some clunkers. He was one of them. As strange as it may sound, I liked him. We seemed to connect on so many levels. We stayed in touch even after I left Carruthers. One day, I received a letter from him that he had exhausted all his appeals. I was long gone from Carruthers and had been at Howard and Brock for a few years. He told me he was scheduled for execution and if I could see my way clear, he would appreciate it if I came to witness his death. Because of the nature of his crime, he had no one else to mourn his passing. His parents were dead and his siblings had washed their hand of him. I told him I would come."

Denny rubbed small circles on Alan's back. "How long ago was this?" he asked.

"Now? Almost ten years ago. His electrocution was scheduled for twelve oh one AM on a Saturday. I flew into Pierre that Friday afternoon. I got to the prison at nine PM. I was allowed a short visit."

Denny grunted at that revelation. "What do you say to someone on Death Row?"

"I wish I could tell you I said something profound that Jonas could take calmly to meet his Maker, but that wouldn't be true. I didn't know what to say. I babbled something about being there and hoping that gave him some solace. I shook his hand and then went to the waiting area until the guards came to escort us to the viewing room."

"'Us?' Who else was there?"

"His brother – in – law, his father – in – law, a couple of reporters from the local papers and the wife's pastor. I was the only one there who cared about him. At about five minutes to midnight, we began to hear crying and screaming. It was Jonas. The guards literally dragged him kicking and screaming down the hall to the execution room. When the door opened and they entered, Jonas took one look at the electric chair and went into hysterics." He shuddered at the memory. "He kept screaming over and over, 'I'm sorry! I'm sorry!' He fought and cried the entire time while they got him into the seat and tightened the straps around his wrists and ankles. What looked something like a World War I helmet was placed on his head and then, almost immediately, the switch was thrown. His body stiffened with the jolt of electricity. I thought his eyes were going to pop out of his head. It seemed to go on forever; it lasted exactly sixty seconds. When the power was turned off, he just…slumped into the chair. A man who I assumed was a doctor, came into the room and felt for a pulse. He shook his head when he couldn't find one and declared John Scott dead at seven minutes after twelve." He shook his head at the memory and received a hug in response.

"How did his wife's family react? Were they glad to see him dead?"

"You could've heard a pin drop in the witness room during the execution and immediately after when he was declared dead. A gurney was brought in to remove the body. One of the reporters asked the brother what he was feeling. He said, 'I thought I would feel like justice was served, but I don't feel anything at all.' The wife's father walked out silently with the pastor and I got the distinct impression that he was unsatisfied, too."

Denny puffed up his chest and blustered, "If some SOB killed someone _I_ loved and I got the chance to watch him die, I'd be _glad_ to see them die!"

"You are a man among men, Denny. I was never thrilled with the idea of the death penalty, but that first execution sealed the deal for me. The family felt no closure, their loved one was still dead and the killer was out of his misery. Every death I have witnessed has been a variation of that theme. I personally believe there are things worse than death."

"Oh, yeah? Like what?"

Alan was starting to fall asleep; the combination of scotch and fatigue was taking its toll; his defenses were down and he was at his most truthful. "Well, being alone, being unloved, being without _you._ Sometimes, I think I would rather be dead than to be without you, Denny. I can't imagine my life without you in it."

Alan was caught off-guard when Denny pushed him off, sat up and then reached over to turn on his lamp. "I don't _ever_ want to hear you say that again! Do you understand me?"

Shocked into wakefulness, Alan pushed himself into a sitting position to stare at his husband. "What's the _matter_ with you?"

"My medication is working so the Mad Cow won't get me, but I'm still going to die before you."

"Denny…"

"Don't you Denny me, Alan! I _will_ die before you and you _will_ have a life without me in it! Don't you _dare_ think about dying because I'm gone! You will go on, you will use the money I'm leaving you to do some good in this world and you will look for and find romantic love again!"

"Denny, I'm sorry I upset you. I guess I was feeling sorry for myself. I promise you, suicide is not an option for me." He slid back down into a prone position and smiled. "Come on, turn out the light and let's go to sleep." He watched as the older man turned off the lamp and then settled into bed. As Alan reclaimed his place at his husband's side, he said, "I will use the money to do good. Thank you, Denny, for looking out for me."

"Like I said: It's my job to protect you from everything. Including yourself." He ruffled Alan's hair before saying, "I love you. Good night."

"Love you, too. G'night."


End file.
